Changing My Story

Michael Roberts was the first boy I ever kissed. Michael and I were both 7-years-old and in 2nd grade together. He had the cutest freckles, and I couldn't resist. I was a VERY brave child! Guess what? He kissed me right back! Of course, it didn't last but I've never forgotten. There's just something about a first kiss that stays with you. I bet even as you read this you are remembering yours. Love can be innocent, but it doesn't usually stay that way, at least not for me.

Those days saw the first of a lot of things for me. I made my First Confession and my First Holy Communion. I got a big girl bike, a yellow Scwinn, for my birthday. And my dad began going to AA (Alcoholics Anonymous). When you love someone who has an addiction, whether it is a parent, sibling, child or spouse, the definition of love is tested and stretched. Another facet of love appears, and it is called tough love.

Love seemed very complicated to me back then. (Maybe it still does and that's why I'm writing this blog?) My ideas about love soon became beliefs, which then became my reality. A long time later, I am really starting to see that. The trick seems to be not only in recognizing it, but then knowing what to do afterwards.

My life is not written in stone. Maybe I cannot change my past, but I certainly have the power to change my future. Over the last 13 years, I have been taking conscious steps to do that. Baby steps, slow and steady, but I had to begin somewhere.

Changing my story, transforming my life, is an on-going process. It's a LOT of learning, falling down, bouncing back up, and getting totally frustrated with myself. Some days I totally hate it! Other days I laugh or cry hysterically as I try yet again to turn my life this way or that way and it comes around like a boomerang and knocks me on my rump.

After I recover from the initial shock of having gotten it wrong AGAIN, I dust myself off and prepare for battle. I am 100% committed! No one can do it but me, and I will! So what if it takes me a few hundred tries? At least I am making the effort. I suppose God made me stubborn for a reason!

Heart Not For Sale

Whirl me around the world
Buy me fancy gifts.
Pamper me with glitz and glimmer
But something is still amiss.

Love doesn't come in boxes
Or wear silken shirts.
It isn't the newest car
That fills my empty heart.

Love is priceless.
No dollar amount.
A lone sign reads:
Heart not for sale.

My Garden

Love blooms in my garden. I have tenderly planted the seeds, watered them with care, and set them in a place where they can receive the light they need. At night I sing softly to them and they respond by sharing their beauty with me.

It dawns on me that it would be nice to be this tender with myself. Carefully selecting the seeds I wish to see bloom within because eventually what I sow, I will reap. My thoughts are like these seeds. Am I nurturing the ones I want to cultivate? Am I uprooting the ones I don't? Weeds can grow so quickly, totally destroying and overtaking a garden if not handled immediately. Insects and pests can eat away at my precious flowers. It is up to me to make sure that doesn't happen.

I am planting love in my consciousness and in my heart. I am singing HU (pronounced hue), a love song to God, to open my heart and allow love to enter. I am showering myself with gentleness and kindness. Ever vigilant I watch, promptly plucking unnecessary thoughts from my mind that might strangle and harm these fragile buds.

And, once my garden is grown, it will be rich with color, delighting the senses. All of God's creatures will be attracted to its warmth and gather. Butterflies fluttering around the bushes. Birds chirping joyfully in the trees. Fish gladly swimming in its pond. Children laughing and playing on its grounds. Such a place of love, Light and Sound I will build.